Wands and Their Various Uses
by Summercloud skyy
Summary: Harry-Draco, fluff: Insults are bandied in an empty locker-room until one remark hits a little too close to home.


"Potter."

"Malfoy."

A scowl met a smirk, and two lockers shot open without being touched. There were a few seconds of silence while the boys divested themselves of quidditch gear. Then Draco let a surreptitious eye flit over Harry's figure and began.

"So is it true that your weasel's banging the mudblood then?"

Harry didn't look up from his clothes. "I don't know, Malfoy, my own nights are busy enough that I don't need to follow what other people do."

"Aww, poor Potter up all night finishing homework?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, my willing, skilled and highly experimental _homework_."

"Please. Judging by the dent where your crotch is supposed to be, I find it hard to believe that _jam_ would spread for you, much less a woman."

"I don't know, Malfoy, your mother seemed eager enough to bend over."

Harry was slammed up against the wall before he knew what was happening. Blue eyes, glittering furiously, glared into his own. Draco's hand on his wrists and his body weight against his chest was keeping him pinned, and a wand rested, none too gently, on his throat.

"Don't – ever – talk to me about my mother." The words were whispered, so close that Harry could feel the other boy's breath ghosting across his lips, and he struggled not to do anything stupid. Like groan. Like grind against him. Like close his eyes and open his mouth and take the soft lips so very close to his own.

He felt Draco run his wand across his neck and he couldn't suppress a shiver.

Draco paused, surprised at the reaction, then raised his wand and tried the gesture again.

Harry trembled again, breath hitching, and his eyes fell shut. The nearness of Draco's heady scent, the feel of his hands on him and his body against him, the breaths that whispered against the too-sensitive skin of his neck, was all driving him crazy.

He never saw the smirk that formed on the blond's face.

"Like that, now, do we, Potter?" a taunting voice asked as the wand tip ran over the contours of his face, across his forehead, over his eyebrows, along his nose, tracing his lips.

Harry only gasped, his hands fisting when he felt the cool wood touch his mouth. He felt his knees going slack, and Draco pressed against him more firmly to hold him up.

Harry's eyes opened to slits, his pupils dilated, and he watched Draco without any real comprehension. All he knew were the sensations across his body, mixed in his head with the feel of something warm and firm against his hand. He drew his eyes away from the tantalizing vision of Draco with an effort and glanced down to find his fingers clutching the other boy's hip. Draco seemed not to have noticed.

Harry looked at his hand on the other boy's body, seemingly entranced by it, and slowly moved it, rubbing, caressing Draco through his robes.

And suddenly he was sinking to the floor, hand holding a burning cheek, while Draco turned on his heel and walked toward his locker. It was a few seconds before Harry realized that he had been slapped. The other boy opened his locker and began taking out his things.

"Draco?" He hadn't meant it to sound like that. It wasn't supposed to sound so...needy. So forlorn. And his voice certainly wasn't supposed to crack. He rested a hand on the floor and tried to pull himself up while he waited for him to answer, determined that he wouldn't call a second time.

The Slytherin had stilled as soon as he heard him speak, his back rigid as he tried to suppress the feelings that welled unexpectedly at hearing his name tumble from those lips.

"Draco?" Harry cursed himself, but he wasn't able to help it. He'd never seen the other boy so still and silent in his life.

Draco breathed in deeply and absently noted that his hands were shaking. He rested one against the locker in front of him. "Yes?"

Harry was suddenly at a loss. He'd expected an outburst, or more fighting, or for Draco to simply leave. What he hadn't expected was an answer, and he didn't know what to do next.

The silence stretched until the only sound in the room was that of two boys breathing. Then Draco pushed away from the wall and turned to face Harry, sinking onto the bench between them and refusing to meet his eyes. "Are you alright?" His voice was low and uncharacteristically subdued.

"Fine." Harry tried to push himself up, but found he was still shaking from the contact and the...aftermath. Draco immediately got up and offered a hand.

Harry grasped the proffered fingers. Draco pulled him up and, then, unexpectedly, pulled him close. His arms went around him, one over his waist, the other resting on his back, and he held Harry tightly to him.

"What—"

"Shh." Draco silenced him sharply and carefully rested his head against the other boy's neck, his breathing shaky.

Tentatively, unsure of his reception, Harry brought his own arms up. He laid the palms flat on Draco's back and, when he wasn't pushed away, wrapped his arms around him in turn. The gravity of the situation hit him suddenly, and he found himself holding Draco as tightly as he was being held himself.

He could feel Draco shaking, and he ran a hand slowly down his back. The muscles there relaxed slight, and he repeated the gesture again, and again, until Draco sagged fully into his arms.

Harry brought his hand up and carefully touched the pale strands of hair that rested by his chin, running his fingers through them and wondering at the oddity of the situation. If someone had told him an hour ago that he would be here, holding his secret crush and so-called arch-rival in his—

Then Draco raised his head, and Harry forgot everything else. He wasn't looking at him, but gazing determinedly at Harry's chin, and Harry wondered whether he really wanted to see what was in his eyes. Disgust? Pity? Anger? Scorn? The mockery would hurt him the most, and he wanted suddenly to run, but Draco's eyes had already met his own, and Harry encountered something he'd never thought he'd see on the other boy's face.

_Fear._

He was scared. Scared that he would be pushed away, scared that he would be hurt, scared that this would be the only moment he would be able to spend like this. It was all right there in his bright blue eyes, and Harry wondered why he had never seen it before.

"Draco... would you like to...?" Harry knew his own eyes had to be as revealing as the other boy's, and he struggled to maintain the eye contact, feeling terrifyingly vulnerable.

"Please," came the strangled reply, and Harry leaned forward to thrust his tongue into Draco's open mouth, an intimate connection that both boys needed desperately.

Draco froze at the unexpected sensation, then groaned and pressed back. He brought his own tongue up hesitantly, and couldn't help a gasp when he felt Harry brush against it. It was warm, almost hot, and the feeling made him shiver. He leaned in closer, his hands going unthinkingly to tangle in Harry's hair, feeling like he could never get enough of this taste, this smell, this...

Harry staggered for a moment as Draco's full weight fell against him. He carefully backed up against the wall and ran his hands down the other boy's sides before pulling him tightly against his chest. Their mouths pressed together hard, and their eyes squeezed shut until the world was narrowed to warm lips against each other and ragged breaths flitting across exposed skin.

The kiss softened gradually until Draco was pressing chaste kisses on Harry's mouth, his hands gripping the base of his skull. Slowly, his reluctance obvious, Harry pulled his head back enough to look at the other boy. The Slytherin's hands dropped to rest on his shoulders, and he gazed back, expression unreadable.

Draco broke the silence first. "I shouldn't have." Harry's heart dropped unpleasantly to his shoes.

Draco trailed his fingers over Harry's face, looking – could it be remorsefully? – at the cheek he had slapped. "I shouldn't have hit you."

"Oh." Harry smiled with sudden relief, and shook his head. "I thought you meant..."

"What, shouldn't have kissed you?" Draco smirked, his confidence returned, and he let his hand travel lower, tracing Harry's jaw, his throat. "No, I definitely should have done that." His smirk widened when he heard Harry's quiet gasp. He glanced up from the boy's collar bone and noted the flushed cheeks with satisfaction. "Sensitive, are we?" He lowered his mouth to kiss his neck, not stopping till he felt Harry's hand clench in his robes.

"Care to be my boyfriend, Potter?" The way he said the surname had changed somehow, but Harry was too distracted to put his finger on it.

Drawing himself back with an effort, Harry replied, "If I remember correctly, it was me that took the initiative, Malfoy. I should be asking you."

"Yes, but by dashing good looks speak for themselves; how could you have resisted? Besides, I was the one who pinned you against the wall and did unspeakable things with my _wand_, if you will." He grinned wickedly against the juncture of Harry's neck and shoulder before descending upon it with soft nips.

Harry's retort was lost in a soft moan. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the sensations coursing through him when the other boy suddenly stepped away.

Lifting his head up, Harry looked at him, confused. "Draco?"

"You, uh, you really want to do this?" The Slytherin flushed uncharacteristically and looked endearingly shy. "Because, I mean, I'll understand if you don't; I've been nothing but a prat, not that I had any choice, and—"

Harry smiled. "Of course I want to do this." His smile broadened into a grin, and he added, "Besides, you're a good sight better than your mother."

Thank you for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated, and criticism is always welcomed.


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